Again this morning, in a cold wind from the future, I walked all the way to the end of the long bridge of my life, having a look at its cables, its rods and rivets, its perforated metal flooring through which I could see whitecaps slamming the pylons. Then I turned and came back, inspecting it all from the other direction, fretting about every hex nut and bolt though they seem sound enough to hold things together. I ought to give the long bridge of my life a little rest, but every day it seems I’m walking from past to possibility and back to past with my brush and aluminum paint, hiding the rust, the deepening cracks, dabbing a shine here and there.
~ Ted Kooser, November. The Wheeling Year: A Poet’s Field Book
- Note to self: Now. 4:23 am. 21º F. Wind, cold. 13 mph from the West.
- Credits: Photograph – peopleus.
How do we forgive ourselves
for all of the things
we did not become?
~ David “Doc” Luben
“I became aware of the world’s tenderness, the profound beneficence of all that surrounded me, the blissful bond between me and all of creation, and I realized that the joy I sought in you was not only secreted within you, but breathed around me everywhere, in the speeding street sounds, in the hem of a comically lifted skirt, in the metallic yet tender drone of the wind, in the autumn clouds bloated with rain. I realized that the world does not represent a struggle at all, or a predaceous sequence of chance events, but the shimmering bliss, beneficent trepidation, a gift bestowed upon us and unappreciated.”
– Vladimir Nabokov [Read more…]
In the midst of winter,
I found there was,
an invincible summer.
And that makes me happy.
For it says
that no matter how hard
the world pushes against me,
there’s something stronger—
pushing right back.
— Albert Camus, from The Stranger
I lift my head from my reading.
To watch. To listen. To inhale.
High winds from the northwest swaying the tall pines. The gusts rustling the branches. The tree tops whistling. The sweet smell of tree resin drifting over the fence from the neighbor’s pruning. It was yesterday, Sunday afternoon. I was lounging in the backyard. Licking my wounds from my long run. Tucked under a comforter…seeking protection against chilling 20 mph winds. I put Knausgaard down and start thumbing through blog posts. “Wind” synchronicity switches on.
First Thomas Merton: “No writing on the solitary, meditative dimensions of life can say anything that has not already been said better by the wind in the pine trees.”
Then Cat Stevens with “The Wind“: “…listen to the wind…To the wind of my soul…Where I’ll end up well I think, Only God really knows…”
Spring officially begins tomorrow at 11:02 am. In his novel Great Expectations, Charles Dickens said:
“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.”
Charles, you are a wee bit off this morning.
I stepped out the door. The Earth is covered with a six inch blanket of wet snow. The Wind is gusting up to 20 mph. It is 28F. I shiver. And think…
- Where’s my Sun with a spring kiss of warmth?
- Where are my cherry blossoms?
- Where are my bubbling brooks?
- Where are my budding trees?
For Equilibrium, a Blessing:
Like the joy of the sea coming home to shore,
May the relief of laughter rinse through your soul.
As the wind loves to call things to dance,
May your gravity by lightened by grace.
Like the dignity of moonlight restoring the earth,
May your thoughts incline with reverence and respect.
As water takes whatever shape it is in,
So free may you be about who you become.
As silence smiles on the other side of what’s said,
May your sense of irony bring perspective.
As time remains free of all that it frames,
May your mind stay clear of all it names.
May your prayer of listening deepen enough
to hear in the depths the laughter of god.”
― John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings
John O’Donohue (1 January 1956 – 4 January 2008) was an Irish poet, author, priest, and Hegelian philosopher. He was a native Irish speaker, and as an author is best known for popularizing Celtic spirituality. O’Donohue said: “Part of understanding the notion of Justice is to recognize the disproportions among which we live…it takes an awful lot of living with the powerless to really understand what it is like to be powerless, to have your voice, thoughts, ideas and concerns count for very little. We, who have been given much, whose voices can be heard, have a great duty and responsibility to make our voices heard with absolute integrity for those who are powerless.“
Related O’Donohue Post:
Wonderful short clip to put you in that Sunday morning frame of mind. The video is beautifully paired with music by The Cinematic Orchestra called To Build a Home. Good Sunday morning…
And every year there is a brief, startling moment
When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and
Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless
Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air:
It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies;
It is the changing light of fall falling on us.
Here’s Jason Mraz’s rendition of the Seals & Crofts’ classic – – Summer Breeze. Song feels right this afternoon…Enjoy.
- Easing into nap time with Thomas Dybdahl…
- Sliding into nap time with Ray LaMontagne…
- (Beautiful) Days Like This… (Van Morrison & Ray Charles)
- Drifting on a Saturday afternoon with Anna Vandas
- On Saturday Afternoon (Rickie Lee Jones)
- Now the Afternoon Is Fading On (Avett Bros)
- You can never hold back spring (Tom Waits)